


zero o'clock

by tyche (marzipan_bubbles)



Series: Wondrous Tails of FFXIV 2020 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Multi, Some Flashbacks, a little spicy stuff, and lots of love for them!!!!, and spoilers, lots of ocs my guys, please look forward to it, please lordt there are so many spoilers for ffxiv in this, plus some npcs too, the usual shebang, there will be more to come!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23211145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marzipan_bubbles/pseuds/tyche
Summary: the clock resets every night, and we reflect on the loves we've had.a collection of writing about the warrior of light and an ascian, looking at the connections they share, using prompts from this year's Wondrous Tails event!
Relationships: Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)/Original Character(s)
Series: Wondrous Tails of FFXIV 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668787
Kudos: 5





	1. caught in the rain

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is a collection of moments of love between my warrior of light oc, hallura kaine, and my friend's ascian oc poseidon! think of this series like the pieces to a puzzle, and when you have enough of them you'll get to see the full picture ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> il mheg was lovely before the rain rolled in.

Hallura ruffles her hand through her hair, trying in vain to shake some of the water out. outside the cave she’s sheltered in, rain batters the mountains of Il Mheg. She can hear the steady  _ drip, drip, drip _ of water somewhere in the shadows beyond.

“Why am I here?” she groans, peeling off her gloves and flicking them. “Ugh.” 

Truthfully, she’s not sure what she’s doing; there are a hundred and one other things that she could be doing -  _ should _ be doing - instead of waiting out a storm in a cave before the sun’s even risen.

But something had called her away, tugged insistently on her heartstrings as she lay sleepless in her bed at the Pendants, and rather than waste more time memorizing the lines of the ceiling she’d chosen to follow the urge. 

With a sigh, she leans against the wall of the cave, resting her head against the cool stone. The rain obscures the flowery plains she’d flown over not minutes before and blurs the glowing wings of the old Voerburt palace. She closes her eyes and allows her mind to wander for a time, listening to the patter of rain against the earth, shivering when the wind blows against her.

She tenses immediately when the dripping sound stops.

“I thought you liked water.” Hallura whirls around to find Poseidon in the dark of the cave. She can make out the Ascian’s white hair, a soft blur against the black shadows. With a snort, she goes back to leaning against the wall.

“I like water,” she agrees. “But I’m not keen on catching my death because of it.”

“I suppose that would be unpleasant,” Poseidon chuckles, sauntering forward; the dripping sound resumes, and as Poseidon nears, Hallura can see that she’d been catching the water in her open palm. 

Hallura raises an eyebrow. “It  _ is _ unpleasant. I don’t suppose you could use some kind of Ascian magic to dry me off?”

“Perhaps,” grins Poseidon. “You’re nice to look at, drenched like this.”

“Seidon, please, I’m freezing.”

Poseidon fakes a pout. “Fine. Ruin my fun.” But she flicks her wrist and with a flutter of her fingers, Hallura feels her clothes dry up. 

She sighs in relief, rubbing her arms for long-awaited warmth. “Thanks, love,” Hallura says, offering a tired smile. “I was worried I’d have to sit out the whole storm like that.”

“Hm. And why would you need to? Couldn’t you just teleport back?” Poseidon reaches out to adjust Hallura’s shirt collar.

“I’m grounded,” she shrugs. “They don’t want me teleporting - or using any magic, really, they’re worried it’ll make the Light worse. I’ve been flying on amaros or walking everywhere.”

“How pedestrian of you.” Snide on the surface, but beneath the snippy words Hallura can tell Poseidon is concerned. She withdraws, shuffling and tucking her long white hair behind her ear, clearly nervous. “Have you been..?”

“Been what?” Hallura coaxes, slowly taking Poseidon’s hand in hers. She has become shy of late, more hesitant to speak - Hallura wonders if it’s worry or guilt, or perhaps both. Since coming to the First, Poseidon has drifted a bit; she’s an Ascian, and freedom is her whim, but Hallura can’t help but feel a little miffed at her distance.

Staring up through her lashes, Poseidon bites the inside of her cheek, and Hallura feels her heart clench. “Have you suffered?” Poseidon asks.

“I’ve....had worse,” she replies, trying to sound indifferent. She turns Poseidon’s hand over in her palm. “It would be better if you were here with me.”

_ But you have your agenda and I have mine, so maybe it’s better if we’re apart anyways. _

Neither of them are sure if that’s an accusation anymore - but the words hang in the air, unspoken and dangerous.

Poseidon steps back, pressing Hallura’s arm back to her chest, clearly avoiding the remark. “What is it like?”

Disappointed but not surprised, she withdraws, going back to lean against the cave wall. “The Light poisoning?” Poseidon nods. “It’s interesting, I suppose. Hurts like hell sometimes, like my insides are being squeezed. But the strangest parts are the dreams.”

“Nightmares?” Poseidon rests against the opposite wall, head cocked in curiosity.

“Not quite.” With a frown, she searches for the right words. “They’re almost like...memories. Things I’ve lived before. It’s not the Echo,” she adds, glancing up at the sky again. “The Echo feels worse. These dreams are almost... _ normal _ .”

She doesn’t miss the way Poseidon’s breath hitches. She throws her a teasing smirk. “Wondering if I’ve dreamt of you?”

The Ascian lets out a squeak in protest. “Of course not,” she huffs, pouting again - the twist of her lips makes Hallura feel a little warm. “I’m not that vain.” She pauses, then ventures, “...but what  _ do _ you dream of?”

Hallura lets out a laugh; it echoes back through the stony cavern. “‘Not that vain’; sure, love.” She shifts and tucks her hands into her pants pockets, pondering what to share. Her smile falls, lips pressing into a thin line. “Lots of things - none of them really make sense. I see...sometimes I see grand halls in gold and black, and buildings that just go up and up like the Crystal Tower. 

_ Shouting voices, the sound of a gavel slamming on a desk; massive doors slamming shut; porcelain breaking, clear and sharp.  _

“Sometimes I’m wading in water up to my knees and I’m wearing a long robe, and someone’s laughing at me because I keep trying to catch this fish but I always miss it.

_ If only you could see yourself, someone says between laughter, you look ridiculous; it’s making you smile, she says back, I don’t mind looking silly if it makes you look so beautiful.  _

“And sometimes,” she continues, jerking her head towards the flowery plains, “I dream of chasing fireflies through fields of flowers. That’s...that’s what brought me here tonight. I couldn’t sleep...and I couldn’t stop thinking about that dream.”

Her partner says nothing, and for a while Hallura feels sheepish. Do Ascians even dream? To an immortal being, such dreams must seem pointless, when Poseidon can most likely pull any hazy memory forward without batting an eyelash. Emet-Selch certainly can; Hallura grimaces, thinking of the lazy grin he wears every time he taunts her.

She has half a mind to change the subject and ask Poseidon how she can tolerate such a smug colleague when she hears the softest sniffle. “Seidon?” she asks. 

Poseidon doesn’t answer, only clenching the fabric of her gown tightly in her hands. Slowly, Hallura approaches her, extending a hand to brush against her cheek, and catches a single teardrop on her bare fingertips. “Was it something I said?”

When Poseidon turns her head away, Hallura braces herself for the sting of rejection, but strangely, it’s regret that washes over her, bubbling up from a hidden spring to prick at her eyes. It’s all confusing, and she wishes more than anything that Poseidon would just talk to her.

“It isn’t you,” Poseidon says quietly, dragging the back of one hand across her eyes swiftly. “I’m just being foolish.”

“If you’re crying I doubt it’s foolish,” she murmurs back.

Poseidon lets out a sound, half huff, half chuckle. “I shouldn’t be so sentimental, old as I am.”

“I like sentimental,” Hallura retorts gently, tracing a finger down the skin of her arm, watching with fascination and satisfaction as Poseidon shudders. 

Beyond the rain, the sun has begun to rise, turning the sky from black to grey; the faint light frames Poseidon’s figure, contouring her face in shadow.

“A long time ago,” she finally says, eyes focused far, far away, “I loved someone.”

Ah, Hallura thinks, the elusive third-party in this strange relationship they’ve forged. It is not the first time Poseidon has referenced this mystery someone, not the first time she’s hinted at a similarity Hallura must share with the enigmatic soul. 

It’s unfair for her to feel bitter, Hallura tells herself, so she bites her lip and waits for Poseidon to continue. Poseidon makes no indication that she even cares if Hallura hears, but Hallura knows better than to take her vulnerability for granted.

“She was beautiful. Beautiful and wild, and always smiling; she had such a free heart.

“We met in a field of flowers like this one,” Poseidon says, waving weakly towards the plains. “It was a summer night...and I was there to study. I was...so serious,” she says, interrupted by a giggle, “so focused on my work - I was minding my own business and taking notes when she tripped over me.”

“She tripped over you?” Despite the pain in her chest, Hallura can’t help but smile. “What were you, totally blind? How did you miss her?”

“I was busy!” Poseidon laughs. “I wasn’t thinking of anything but my studies. And I think - I think she was too busy chasing the lightning bugs.”

For the first time, she turns and looks Hallura directly in the eye, immediately drowning her in the vivid pink of her irises. “She tripped over me and landed face-first in the flowers, and before I could rebuke her she puffed out her cheeks and blew the petals right off her nose. I…there was nothing I could do but stare, and then she reached out and flicked a flower out of my hair and I was gone.”

There is something in Poseidon’s gaze, something she isn’t saying out loud. Hallura searches desperately for it, feeling like she’s on the verge of understanding a part of her lover that has eluded her for so long.

It’s not to be, though - Poseidon instead rises to her toes and presses a long kiss to her lips, and Hallura feels her thoughts scatter like the petals Poseidon described. Her arms fall naturally to her waist, pulling closer until there’s no space left between them.

They draw apart, resting their noses against each other; Hallura lets her eyes flutter open, lashes kissing Poseidon’s forehead. “You reminded me of that,” Poseidon whispers against her, eyes closed. 

She squeezes her eyes shut and pretends it doesn’t hurt.

For several heartbeats, they just hold each other, only the sound of their breathing to fill the world around them.

It’s Poseidon who breaks away first - it is always Poseidon who breaks away first, Hallura thinks ruefully. She draws back, though hesitant, and turns towards the mouth of the cave. “The rain,” she says, “it’s stopped.”

Hallura follows her gaze outward, squinting as her eyes adjust. The sun has begun to work its way through the clouds, turning the heavens a soft orange-gold. Poseidon takes a few steps out, extending an open palm skyward.

“You had best be returning to your people,” she says, turning to Hallura. “They’ll be fretting after you if they find you aren’t in your bed.”

Her concern is soothing, but not quite enough to ease the pang of separation Hallura feels; she offers Poseidon a lopsided grin. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get back just fine.” She moves to plant a kiss on Poseidon’s forehead, but pauses before leaving. “Seidon?”

“Yes?”

“...thank you.”

“...any time, my love.”


	2. taking care of them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hallura is dying. poseidon is immortal, but she can feel parts of herself dying with her anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shb spoilers! lightwarden poisoning feat. my favorite wives

The moment Poseidon materializes in Hallura’s room, she’s hit with a wave of suffocating, stagnating Light. She staggers against the door, clutching at her throat, and tries not to be sick.

“Your Mother’s essence still disgusts me,” she mutters, even though Hallura won’t answer. 

Hallura  _ can’t _ answer.

Recovering from her nausea, Poseidon allows herself a glance through the wooden divider at where Hallura sleeps. She doesn’t snore or shift, or give any sign that she can sense Poseidon’s presence. 

Poseidon walks quietly to stand at her bedside. Hallura, her foolish Warrior, is dying, perishing slowly to the boundless Light within her body. At first glance one might think she’s just resting, but when Poseidon presses her fingertips to the inside of Hallura’s wrist, there’s barely even a pulse to catch.

“I can’t believe it,” Poseidon says aloud, desperate for Hallura to respond. “You’re supposed to be unbeatable; you’re supposed to be better than the rest of them.”

(How could this have happened?)

She feels her lower lip tremble. “You know, I -”

The door latch creaks; Poseidon clamps her mouth shut and whirls towards the apartment entrance, willing herself to fade into shadow, just in time for the Elezen twins and the Oracle of Light to walk into the room. 

“She’s not going to get better in the  _ ten _ minutes you spend away from her, Alisaie,” says the brother twin, sounding strained. “You have to let her be.”

“Don’t patronize me, Alphinaud,” snaps his sister, striding brusquely into the room. She hurries to Hallura’s bedside (she almost brushes against Poseidon in her rush), casting a glance over her shoulder at her companions. “Ryne, how is she?”

The Oracle of Light shuffles nervously. “She...I don’t see any change,” she replies quietly, clasping her hands to her chest. 

“But she’s stable?” Alisaie almost barks.

“Y-yes,” stammers Ryne, averting her gaze. 

“...good.” Alisaie allows herself a few steps closer to Hallura’s sleeping body, reaching out a hand halfway before withdrawing. She folds in on herself. “Can you pass me her comb?”

“Alisaie,” murmurs Alphinaud, voice tinged with pain.

None of the three children notice Poseidon’s shadowy presence, and for that Poseidon is grateful (especially grateful that the aether-keen Y’shtola is not with them). Even if they've tolerated her in the past because of her relationship with Hallura, she doubts they will be pleased to see her near their friend now.

She watches as Ryne passes Alisaie a plain wooden comb, her own heart heavy with sadness - maybe even sympathy. “You know Hallura used to have long hair?” Alisaie says, back turned to her companions and Poseidon. 

Hallura had the most beautiful hair. Poseidon winces, thinking of the day when Elidibus had tried to slice Hallura’s head off and came away with her hair instead (how fortunate that the Emissary had not succeeded).

“Did she?” Ryne asks.

“Yes. It was so pretty.” Alisaie’s voice is watery. “She could braid it a hundred different ways. She taught me to do some of them.”

Jealousy leaves a bitter taste in Poseidon’s mouth, and she tries her very best to swallow it down. The Scions, for all their flaws, made Hallura happy; she was always close to the twins. Her gaze moves slowly from the Alisaie to Hallura’s form, as she thinks of the way she would run her fingers through Hallura’s hair when she slept.

“Alisaie,” Alphinaud repeats, stepping forward to place his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Let her rest. Our worrying won’t help her heal faster; it’s best if we put our energies towards searching for a cure.” 

There is no cure - but they don't know that yet, and Poseidon isn't sure if she has the heart to tell them.

Alisaie tenses, gripping the comb tighter, but relents and slumps over. “Fine.” She sets the comb down on Hallura’s nightstand. “Let’s go,” she says, turning swiftly on her heel and almost running out of the room.

Alphinaud watches her leave with a sad smile. “That’s more like it. Come, Ryne,” he murmurs, taking his own leave. Ryne nods, glancing back at Hallura, before meekly rushing after the twins.

Poseidon waits until the door closes and their footsteps have faded to let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. With a long exhale, she drops her magic, balancing against the dresser. “You certainly know how to inspire affection, my love,” she sighs to Hallura, eyes fixed on the door. 

She’s not sure if it’s a few seconds or a few hours before she relents and goes to take the comb in her own hands. She runs her thumbs over the pale wood in silence. 

How many people have brushed Hallura’s hair with this comb? How many people have been given the privilege of her intimacy? How many other people have touched her in affection, in love? How many of those people made her happy (was she happier with them)?

Regardless if she was happier with others, Poseidon knows she was most likely  _ safer _ with them. Not dying like she is now. She lets herself sit on the bed next to Hallura, leaning over her lover slightly. From here she can count Hallura’s eyelashes, resting against bronze skin that’s just a touch too pale to be healthy. With a pang of guilt, Poseidon realizes she’s never really paid attention to the little details of Hallura’s face before - the faint freckles over the bridge of her nose, the slight nick in her left eyebrow arch, the unevenness of her tattoo color.

She has been willfully ignorant, for ten thousand years - millenia spent denying the right to life, to  _ existence _ , to the last inheritors of her fractured home world. Refusing to see the writing on the wall, refusing to accept that their hopes of restoring the Source was doomed from the start.

“I’ve been a fool,” she whispers, eyes welling up with tears, and reaches out to touch Hallura’s lips. “I’ve been blind to what was in front of me all this time, and you’re paying the price.”

Maybe if she’d realized it sooner, she would have been courageous enough to say no, put a stop to the Rejoining. She could have convinced her brother to let go of their utopia, and saved countless lives from being devoured for a lost cause. Then the Exarch would not have needed to store the toxic Light of a world within one soul, and Hallura would not be choking to death on the essence of her own power.

As if on queue, Hallura begins to cough - an ugly wet sound that startles Poseidon out of her dark thoughts; the coughs shake the bed. With alarm, Poseidon realizes that Hallura is coughing up liquid Light. It spills from her lips and runs down her cheeks, pristine and bright and hideous.

Poseidon drops the comb and bolts up from the bed, frantically tearing open the nightstand drawer in search of a cloth. She takes the first one she can find, hurrying back to dab at Hallura’s skin and wipe away the mess (she will burn the cloth later), stroking Hallura’s forehead with her free hand. 

“Come on, Lura,” she begs, unable to stop herself from crying. “Fight it. You have to win.”

After a few more horrible moments, Hallura seems to settle, though her breathing is ragged - Poseidon hopes that she’s imagining the sound of a gurgle. She lets her fingers rest against Hallura’s forehead for a while before it registers that Hallura is cold as death itself. She needs to be warmed, and fast.

“Of course you decide to get fussy when there’s nobody around,” she chuckles, trying to make herself laugh. “None of the Scions are here to babysit you.” Indeed, there are no Scions to wait on Hallura now - which leaves the task of caring for her to Poseidon.

She looks up and scans the room. There is a stove where she can heat water for tea against the back wall, and a chest which should have blankets beside the dresser. She incinerates the Light-stained cloth with magic and props Hallura up into almost-sitting position.

It’s been so long since Poseidon had to care for someone - physically, at least. She can’t remember the last time she nursed someone back to health. None of her Ascian peers ever needed healing, not when they could abandon a sick body for a well one. Wryly, she wonders if the last time she took care of someone was her brother in his dying Solus body - the needy brat.

First she collects the blankets and piles them onto Hallura, packing them as snugly as possible. It pains Poseidon that Hallura doesn’t protest - she hates being too hot when she sleeps, kicking off the blankets whenever they would sleep together to feel the cool night air on her skin. She checks Hallura’s temperature one more time before going to boil some water.

As she sets the kettle onto the stove and stokes the flames hotter with her magic, she wonders if Hallura will ever know that Poseidon is taking care of her now. If she’ll wake up snuggled in blankets and know it was Poseidon who tucked her in, if she’ll smile when she realizes it.

If she’ll wake up at all.

Poseidon feels tears well up again at the thought. What’s the point then, she thinks, if it’s all doomed to fail anyway?”

But Hallura deserves better than that. This world deserves better than that, for Poseidon to just write them off again. She’s too late to stop what’s happening now, but she owes it to Hallura and the world Hallura loves to start trying. 

The water boils quickly and she has a mug of tea ready shortly after. She carries it back over to Hallura’s bedside, taking a spoon with her. “Alright,” Poseidon says, sitting down on the mattress and blowing gently on the tea, “we’ll do this slowly.”

At first it’s difficult - it takes work to feed Hallura the tea without making a mess - but after a few attempts Poseidon has it down, and steadily manages to get the mug’s contents into Hallura’s body. It’s intimate and domestic and it makes Poseidon’s heart ache.

She doesn’t talk while she gives Hallura the tea, afraid of breaking the mechanical routine she’s fallen into. Everything is so peaceful, and so terrible at the same time. The silence between them, normally comforting and warm, is frigid, eerie, and Poseidon hates that she can only think about how everything is wrong, wrong, wrong.

Spoonful by spoonful, she empties the cup. She wipes down Hallura’s chin, setting the mug down on the nightstand, and moves to set Hallura back down when she hears a  _ clink _ against her foot.    
  


She finds Hallura’s comb on the floor, kicked aside in her panic. Hesitantly, she reaches down to pick it up, weighing it in her palm. 

If she’s being honest, she can’t remember the last time she touched Hallura’s hair (at least, the last time she did outside of sex, she thinks bitterly). As she contemplates whether or not to use the comb she feels a bit like she’s breaking a secret rule - she’s never touched Hallura’s hair while she sleeps. Perhaps her guilt has her more sentimental than she should be, but Poseidon ultimately decides it can’t hurt to comb Hallura’s hair just a little.

Running the comb against Hallura’s scalp, Poseidon begrudgingly admits that Alisaie has done a fine job of keeping her hair neat and mostly free of tangles. The whisper of hair against comb is soothing, and soon Poseidon finds herself addicted to the sensation. It’s sad that she can’t remember what it was like to touch Hallura’s hair when it was longer, but her hair is still soft and beautiful.

When there are no more knots to remove and Hallura’s hair feels like silk, Poseidon sets the comb on the nightstand. “I’ve done what I can,” she says, adjusting the blankets to hug Hallura’s chin. “You have to get better now.”

For the first time, Hallura lets out a noise - a soft sigh, barely louder than her normal breathing, but Poseidon is so starved for the sound of her voice that she feels herself getting teary again. Hallura offers no further signs of life, but it’s enough to calm the turmoil in Poseidon’s chest for a moment.

A moment in which she contemplates simply crawling into the bed with Hallura to warm her up herself.

A moment which is interrupted by the sound of voices from outside the room, footsteps and the rustle of clothes. Poseidon jolts up, turning to the sound of the Scions' approach, then glancing back at Hallura.

“Be well, my love,” she whispers quickly, leaning over to press a kiss to Hallura’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”

And she vanishes just as the door swings open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr! https://alamhigyoooo.tumblr.com/


	3. arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> poseidon is not the one who leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we love a little amaurot heartbreak

“Come back! Come back here right now!” Poseidon’s hurried steps sound across a stone floor, echoing coldly over the walls of the Capital; she grips her chest, her heart on the verge of breaking. Two souls storm through hallowed halls.

She hears the rustling of robes, brushing against legs moving quick with anger. “No, Poseidon, I won’t. I’m done with this - I’m done with everything here.”

“What - you can’t just leave like this! Do you  **know** what this must look like to the rest of the Convocation?! Where are you - where are you  **going**?” A door is thrown open, creaking against its hinges - the sound of panting as Poseidon tries to catch up to the other. 

“ **Away** , Poseidon! Away from this place, from those - those  **monsters**.” A cloaked figure, posture straight, head held high. A voice, full of righteous bitterness.

“You take that back!” Poseidon spits out angrily, tears building in her throat. The air is thick with tension. Poseidon swings her arm out. “You know that’s not true.”

“ **Yes** , it  **is** true.” The figure stops, back turned - the voice is a scoff. “Sacrificing people,  **our** people, for power? This isn’t the Convocation I joined. I refuse to be a part of something that would throw away lives so callously.”

“For  **power**?! We don’t have a  **choice**!” Poseidon cries, arms thrown into the air. The figure is still walking away, going away. “You **know** how much this hurts us. We’ve exhausted every option, there’s nothing else left to try. This plan is all we have now - there is nothing callous about taking it, not when we have no other chances left.”

“But you’re  **taking** it.” The figure turns, and it’s a woman behind a mask, a mask and waves of long, dark hair. “The Convocation would have me swallow down my beliefs, my ideals, for a cause that I  **cannot** believe in.”

“Don’t be a fool! There are bigger things -”

“And what about  **you**?!” The woman shouts, lunging once towards Poseidon. “Would  **you** ask the same of me?” Through the mask, white eyes shimmer and refract the light, a kaleidoscope gaze. “What do  **you** want me to do, Poseidon?  **You** , not the seat of the Convocation you’ve been hiding behind.”

Trembling lips - dark emotions tight in her chest, threatening to choke out her words; Poseidon snarls, “Don’t ask me that,  **don’t**.” 

“I  **will**. Who is asking me to stay? You, or your seat?” 

Poseidon can hear a clock ticking, slowly, so slowly. “You. Can’t. Ask that of me.”

_ Please don’t push me. Please don’t.  _

“And why  **not** , Poseidon? Why  **not**?! Have I not earned your trust? Your  **respect**?! Be honest with me! I deserve that much!” The woman comes closer, seven long strides to shrink the gap between them. Eyes lock, narrow in challenge. Rage, fiery rage, grips Poseidon’s heart.

“Don’t make this about  **me**! You’ve  **always** had my trust! I’ve given you  **everything** I’ve ever had to give away. But this -” Poseidon turns and gestures back, back towards the hall that’s missing two of its members, that can’t be losing one of them forever “- this  **isn’t** mine to give! You need to get over your  **stupid** pride and realize that no matter what  **I** want, no matter what  **you** want, there is only one solution.”

She is breathing heavy, white hair slipping from behind her mask; her vision is blurring with the force of her words. A contrast - the other woman is the picture of stillness, frozen like a lake during winter.

“My pride?” she whispers, lips barely moving.

“Yes,” Poseidon breathes. The back of her neck tingles; the aether of the air brushes a warning against her skin. “ **Your** pride. You just can’t accept that you lost. But the vote has been cast and the decision is made. Zodiark  **will** be summoned, and we will snatch this world from the jaws of destruction as we are meant to do.”

“...We.”

Silence, awful silence. Her blow delivered, Poseidon rises and pushes her shoulders back; her ground is defended. All that is left is for her to come back,  _ come back come back come back _ and they will return to the hall, and everything will be as it should.

Slow motion. The clock is back, tick tick ticking. The woman lifts her arms up, hands shaking, lips parted. 

_ Come back to me, my love, and we will forget this and be happy like we always were. _

The space between is small - Poseidon could reach across and close it. She waits, and waits, time stopped on a single heartbeat.

The woman does not reach first.

She does not reach at all.

Fingers wrap around porcelain, tucking beneath the mask and pulling, pulling away. The rustle of hair, falling out from behind, spilling from under the hood.

She is beautiful, and she is crying without tears. 

The woman removes her mask, gripping it with tan fingers turned white with pressure. Large, prismatic white eyes, unblinking, unseeing. Her lips, full and pink, form four words.

“ **There is no we**.”

Poseidon shatters with the sound of the mask on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr! https://alamhigyoooo.tumblr.com/


	4. (NSFW) sensory deprivation + bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enemies sometimes make the best lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some early seilura action :^) takes place in that weird limbo between heavensward and stormblood

“You locked the door?”

Hallura looks up at Poseidon as Poseidon ties the restraints around her wrists. The white-haired Ascian smirks at her. 

“Why? Worried one of your Scions will barge in and see you like this?” She’s referring to how Hallura is tied up and naked. Hallura shrugs as best she can with her arms bound over her head. 

“Less that one will walk in and see me - more that they’ll walk in and see  _ you _ hovering over me while I’m otherwise incapacitated,” she snorts, leaning her head back. “I’m the only one who can really claim to be an Ascian-killer but I can’t promise they wouldn’t try to shove a knife in your back if they got the wrong idea.”

Poseidon chuckles, obviously amused by the thought. “Don’t worry, Warrior,” she croons, tracing a single finger down Hallura’s bare arms to her chest, “I locked it. But  _ I _ can’t promise that they won’t hear your cries through the walls regardless.”

“You want me to be loud?” Hallura licks her lips, eagerly anticipating Poseidon’s treatment.

“You’ll find out what I want soon enough,” Poseidon hushes her, pressing a swift kiss to Hallura’s lips and tweaking one of her nipples. Hallura lets out a soft sigh, arching ever so slightly. There’s a rustle of fabric, and then Poseidon is lifting up the silk sash to Hallura’s eyes. “Here we are now. Do you trust me?”

Hallura rolls her eyes, a smile playing at her lips. “Do you want an honest answer?”

“I see your point. Are you ready, then?” 

“Of course. I’ve always wanted to know how good an Ascian can treat a girl.” Obediently, Hallura closes her eyes, and feels the cool brush of silk over her eyelids as Poseidon ties it over her face. The world goes dark, and Hallura shudders with excitement.

“I doubt that I’ll disappoint,” Poseidon sniffs, tugging once at the knot before withdrawing - being unable to place where Poseidon is has Hallura deliciously on edge. “I’ve had millenia of practice, after all.”

"Don't slack off on me now, Poseidon."

"Oh, don't worry. I may be arrogant but I plan on backing it all up." And then there's a hand tracing up Hallura's right thigh. Hallura spreads her legs wider, feels her arousal stoked by the thrill of the unknown. 

"Now be good," Poseidon whispers into her ear, "and do as I say."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr! https://alamhigyoooo.tumblr.com/


	5. biggest fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> immortality is a curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't written for the wives in so long askjhsdlfkgsdfg please enjoy this sad piece i wrote for them

Everyone has fears, but very few people are utterly  _ terrified _ of something. A deeper fear, the kind that makes skin go cold and thoughts vanish, that blinds and paralyzes and drags the world to a stop.

Hallura can see that Poseidon is terrified of something.

__

At first, Hallura thinks it’s blood. Whenever Hallura returns from a battle, beaten and tired and covered in blood, Poseidon’s face will always go white. She’ll stare at Hallura for a few moments before snapping at her to undress and clean up. As Hallura sheds her armor, Poseidon will watch her, eyes wide and focused, almost like she’s sizing up Hallura’s wounds.

When Hallura sinks into the tub on those days, Poseidon won’t come to sit with her right away like usual - she’ll sit in the adjacent room, taking a cloth to scrub off the grime and gore on Hallura’s armor and weapons, until each piece is shining clean. Then she’ll pace around, looking lost in thought, and will remain that way unless Hallura calls for her. 

If Poseidon comes to be with Hallura when she bathes, she won’t meet Hallura’s typical small talk. She’ll sit at the side of the tub, quiet and tucked into herself as though she’s trying to make herself disappear. Not even Hallura’s teasing requests for a back scrub or tub partner will shake her from her silence.

Once Hallura is clean, Poseidon checks over her body, assessing damages old and new. If there are open wounds, she’ll tend to them herself, turning her healing magic to Hallura’s skin. Every fresh cut is bandaged, even after curing spells and ointments; even old scars are lotioned up and massaged.

When they go to bed, Poseidon will sometimes bury her face in Hallura’s hair and take long breaths, as though she’s trying to see if Hallura still reeks of blood.

In a strange way, Hallura supposes it makes sense. If Poseidon’s immortal, when was the last time she bled? Can Ascians even bleed? Perhaps after living so long without fear of mortality, they find themselves disgusted by the thought. 

She asks Poseidon once - “Are you afraid of blood?”

Poseidon frowns at her and says no, and Hallura is back to square one.

__

Later, Hallura wonders if Poseidon’s afraid of illness. 

She suspects it after she wakes up with a fever in her bed at the Rising Stones, just to find a horrified Poseidon at her bedside. Through her delirium, she registers Poseidon pushing her back down to the pillows, berating her for falling sick. 

Poseidon is an attentive caregiver - she manages to procure soup and bread despite  _ never _ cooking, and spoon-feeds Hallura until she’s satisfied with how much Hallura has eaten. She tucks Hallura in and ensures that the room is the right temperature. She draws the curtains closed and pulls up a chair, tells Hallura to sleep - yet not once does she meet Hallura’s eyes with her own.

When Hallura rises in the middle of the night sick to her stomach, Poseidon is there to pass her a pot so she can vomit - but she looks away as Hallura retches, arms hugged close to her body. She doesn’t say anything, taking the pot away when Hallura is done and wiping at Hallura’s face with a damp cloth. Only once does Poseidon’s gaze linger long enough for Hallura to see the fear embedded deep within.

In the days following her illness, Hallura wonders if she imagined it - but when she suffers a dizzy spell and almost faints after getting up too fast, she comes to and finds the same terror in Poseidon’s pink eyes. As Poseidon helps her sip water, the Ascian’s touch shakes ever so slightly against Hallura’s back.

This makes less sense than blood. Hallura doesn’t think Ascians can get sick - and even if their vessels did, they could simply jump to a different body and spare themselves the struggle.

After she’s healed, Hallura asks Poseidon as they lie together in bed - “Does sickness scare you?”

Poseidon props herself up on one arm, rolls her eyes and says no.

Hallura pouts, asking if she’d hallucinated Poseidon’s fear when she was ill.

Poseidon just shakes her head, and Hallura is left empty-handed once again.

__

Hallura’s certain it must be mortality that Poseidon fears. 

Through the process of elimination, she’s figured out that everything Poseidon is afraid of has to do with anything that makes someone mortal - a beating heart that can bleed, a body which can fall sick, hairs that will turn grey and skin that will one day wrinkle.

Hallura doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do about it.

There’s nothing she can do about being mortal - and if Hallura’s being honest, she doesn’t really  _ mind _ being mortal. Sure, she isn’t impervious to damage, immune to bruises or cuts. Someday she’ll grow old and have to put down her axe for someone else to take up. 

But mortality is what makes her human. It’s what makes life worth living - it makes morning swims in the sea refreshing and rejuvenating, and what makes every sunset unique and memorable. It makes sore muscles satisfying, makes breathing calming. 

Mortality makes love passionate and addicting, and without it Hallura has no idea what living would be like.

Except...Poseidon is immortal. She’s been around for millenia, if the Ascians’ tales are to be believed, and has witnessed the rise and fall of entire civilizations. Mortal lives, in comparison, must be insignificant. What does Poseidon have to fear from mortality?

It baffles Hallura, and plants seeds of doubt in her heart. Does Poseidon fear her mortality? Does it revolt her?

Why does Poseidon even keep her around at all?

On the cusp of her journey to the First, she almost asks. Poseidon’s back is turned to her while she stares off at the Crystal Tower; Hallura knows she is attempting to discern the person and purpose behind Hallura’s summoning.

Hallura almost asks. 

But when Poseidon turns to her and flashes a mysterious smile, Hallura’s questions die in her throat. 

Perhaps it’s better if she doesn’t ask - even if it’s a lie, even if Poseidon is terrified of Hallura’s mortality, she can pretend just a little longer that it doesn’t matter, so long as she can see that beautiful smile.

__

Poseidon knows Hallura is trying to understand her, and it hurts.

The wiser part of her tells her she needs to leave Hallura behind and move on - Tyche is never going to come back if Poseidon and her allies cannot bring about the Rejoining, and Hallura stands directly in the way of their path to victory. Hades has mocked her, over and over again, for her dalliances with the Warrior of Light, reminding her that a shard is not worthy of her attention when the whole could become reality. Some days she is inclined to agree with him.

A different part - a part Poseidon doesn’t want to name - chafes at the idea of separation. It whispers in her ear of nights no longer spent alone, a hand to hold when her heart shudders in pain. It coaxes her with memories of past and present, times when she is held and cherished and loved, and her world almost seems complete.

No matter what she chooses, though, Poseidon has set herself up to fail.

Leaving Hallura will free Poseidon from the chains tying her down - it will allow her to pursue the ultimate goal, unburdened by attachment, so that they can bring about the Rejoining and walk the streets of their home once more.

But staying with Hallura will feed the emptiness that has slowly eaten away at Poseidon for all these millenia. Even though Poseidon does not require sleep, she finds her precious few hours of rest are happiest with Hallura in her arms; she does not need to eat, but the food Hallura shares with her fills her to the brim with joy and satisfaction.

Without Hallura, she was dying every day, losing the remaining pieces of herself to hollow loneliness. 

With Hallura, she knows the warmth of companionship once again - and soon she will know its loss again, too.

If her peers do not kill Hallura, then someday, injury or illness or age will kill her instead, and there will be no second Hallura to replace her.

When Hallura begins to ask if she’s afraid of those things, eyes curious and concerned, Poseidon can honestly admit that she isn’t. Over the thousands of years she has suffered to exist, fevers and wounds have never given her cause to even blink.

No, she does not fear the faults of the flesh.

But being with Hallura has reawoken her greatest fear, the one which plagued her even before the world fell apart. 

Poseidon is terrified of being left alone again, and the tragedy of it all is that no matter what she chooses, one day, she will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr! https://alamhigyoooo.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys! i hope you enjoyed! i'm new to ao3 so there might be some changes with formatting, but please look forward to more chapters with more oc shenanigans and npcs to follow! i welcome any questions about my characters or comments you might have! thanks so much for reading!
> 
> find me in game as hallura kaine on ultros!


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